1815141514
by Kate Lewis
Summary: 18.15.14.15.14 03.01.05.12.09.14


"Looks like your friend was right when he said this place had been hit hard," Shepherd said with a grimace as his team walked through a desolate village where embers still smoldered in the wreckage. They had yet to see a single survivor. There had been bodies, plenty of those. Still, Shepherd wasn't too concerned with the sight of a few fallen villagers. Teyla's tip had come from someone that was worried about the captives of this village, not the villagers themselves.

"Their prisoners were likely kept outside," Teyla said with contempt in her voice, adjusting the large pack of supplies she carried, the same pack that everyone in the team was wearing today, "they would be the first target for the darts while the villagers hid in caves or tried to run."

The presence of sturdy roofed pens scattered about the clearing they were walking through suggested as much. Carson Becket, the support they had brought in case anyone had needed medical attention was more distressed than he was letting on. "There must be someone 'ere," the Scottish doctor said, "I can't believe everyone was taken or killed, can we not check the caves over there?"

"I don't think we'd have much to fear from anyone we might find in them," McKay put in, his eyes on his scanner. "I see no energy signatures denoting any kind of technology, and these buildings look like they were built in the stone age. I'd say we'd be up against bows and arrows, maybe a sling or two. I wouldn't even credit these barbarians with crossbows."

"Even bows and arrows can kill you, especially if there's a lot of them," Shepherd said.

"I killed a wraith with a bow once," Ronon said with deadly grin.

Shepherd rolled his eyes, then gave the caves a skeptical glance. "There might not be any prisoners left. Could be we just find angry violent villagers that have a bad habit of putting people in cages."

"They could still be hurt."

Shepherd reluctantly nodded, then waved Ronon forward. "Alright Becket, we'll go through the caves, but anyone shoots anything at me, they're getting shot right back."

With Ronon leading, the team moved forward into the caves. Becket was trying to appear cool and calm with his decision, but he stuck close to Teyla with her P90 and held his medical kit close to his body, his hand tempted to stray to the 9mm at his side. His concern was justified early as Shepherd was forced against a wall by a hail of rocks and shafts.

Ronon growled and drew his gun, but Shepherd held up an arm to forestall him. "We're not wraith," he hollered around the corner, and was encouraged by the slight decrease in fire. "We've got a doctor to assist with any wounded. We're here to help."

Ronon leaned ever so slightly around the corner to check the position of the hostile villagers, but was forced back quickly by another hail of projectile weapons. He raised an eyebrow at Shepherd, "I don't think they want our help."

"There could be wounded in there, or prisoners that need it," Teyla said fiercely.

"Aye, we need to get in there, even in they don't want our help."

Shepherd sighed, and readjusted his hold on his P90, "Ronon, you go in first."

The powerful Satedan moved ahead. Shepherd held him back one more time, "and set that thing to stun."

Ronon twirled his weapon impressively before holding it out so Shepherd could clearly see the light indicating it was on stun. "Just thought I'd check," the colonel said with a shrug. "We'll follow you. Avoid deadly force unless... well, it can't be avoided."

Teyla flipped the safety off her weapon, and Shepherd followed suit. Ronon pulled his gun in front of him and pushed off of the floor, shooting into the main room of the cave, blasts from his gun paralyzing the natives of the planet before they realized he had reappeared. There were only a handful to be dispatched and Ronon had taken care of them before Shepherd had finished coming around the corner himself.

Ronon was glowering at a crude structure of thick saplings bound to each other with ropes. "Doc," he said, raising his voice, "looks like we're going to need you after all."

-----

"Good Lord," was all Becket could say as he approached the form tied to the easel of branches.

"She still alive?" Ronon asked, watching the doctor push matted hair from a bruised neck to check for a pulse.

"Aye, though she looks too weak to be moved."

Shepherd looked over from his work of tying up the stunned natives. "We're going to have to move her, Becket. I don't know how far back these caves go or how many pockets of angry savages we'd have to deal with if we stayed."

"Look at her, Colonel," Becket said, "she's be beaten half to hell, and starved on top of it. Looks like every one of her fingers has been dislocated or broken, and I'm not liking the look of the bruising around her collar bone."

"We'll rig a stretcher or something, but we need to move sooner rather than later. You can't help her enough here even if you had all the time in the world," he began to order people around to carry out his plan, ignoring Becket's protests. "Rodney you go look for something sturdy to make the frame from. And Teyla, if you could find something to rope the frame together with when you're done with our savages, that would be much appreciated."

Rodney was shining his light around the save when Ronon spoke up. "We can use the wood of this," he said, lightly tapping the stand the prisoner was tied to.

"Right... good call," Shepherd said.

Becket waved Ronon towards him, "I'm going to cut her arms free, if you could be so kind as to hold her up so she doesn't collapse to the floor..."

Ronon moved so he was kneeling beside the still woman, his arms beneath hers, a hand held her head gently to his chest, and his other supported the arm on the side Becket assumed had a broken collar bone. "Ready when you are, Doc."

Becket quickly sliced the leather that was biting into the prisoner's wrists. He caught her first arm by the forearm, trying to avoid the worst of her cuts and bruises and lowering it to her side as gently as possible. He moved to her other wrist, and caught that arm in much the same way. Ronon leaned back on his heels, ready to lower her gently to the ground. But, as Becket moved her arm to her side, her eyes fluttered and her breath caught in her throat. Ronon tried to keep her still, but she was struggling against him, causing herself more pain than she was already in. "Doc," he said simply, calling attention to the situation Becket was more than aware of.

"Rodney, pass me my medical kit please," Becket said. When he had it in his hands, he quickly selected a vial and a syringe. His patient quietly quickly after the needle left the skin of her arm, her roaming eyes closing again and her body relaxing. Becket checked her pulse again, talking soothingly, "there we go."

"I think she's out," Ronon said as he tried to maneuver himself from under the sleeping woman without disturbing her arm.

Becket gave him a look, but stopped talking to the unconscious woman, instead addressing Ronon as he gently pressed her left collar bone. "This is definitely broken, but it feels like a clean snap. I'm just going to rig up a sling to keep it from moving while we carry her back to the gate..."

Shepherd and Teyla were finishing with the stretcher when Shepherd heard a beeping coming from the pocket of his combat.

Rodney stiffened and drew his own P90. "Is that--"

"The Life-Signs Detector, yes," Shepherd cut in, tying the last strip of cloth and ripping the Ancient device free. "Lots of life-signs." His voice changed as he began to give commands, "That'll have to do Becket, she goes on the stretcher. You and Rodney are carrying it, we'll need Ronon to deal with the ones coming from behind. Teyla you go ahead, Ronon and I will keep try to keep them back."

Ronon eased the prisoner into position and stood quickly, gun drawn. Rodney let his P90 rest once again on his chest and bent to lift one side of the stretcher. He was set to complain about how heavy it was and how unfair the predicament was, but he stopped himself when the stretcher rose a lot easier than he anticipated. Becket's eyes were dark with the injustice of the treatment the woman had been dealt and Rodney found himself agreeing whole-heartedly.

"This entrance is still clear," Teyla called from the front of the cave, "although I cannot say for how long it will remain so."

"Move!" Shepherd ordered from behind as the first arrow hit the rock of the cave with a clattering of steel.

With the fire of the P90's behind them, Becket and Rodney began to move, following Teyla as she picked the most direct route back to the gate. Arrows and stones fell around them with alarming frequency, despite the rain of bullets that Shepherd was unleashing and the storm of blasts coming from Ronon's gun, which seemed to be off stun this time. The gate came into sight, and right when even the pessimistic Rodney thought they had a chance of getting out without a scratch, a stone struck the back of Becket's neck. Without a cry of pain or alarm, the doctor's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground. The back end of the stretcher bumped to the ground with it, drawing Rodney's attention.

"Problem!" he shouted as he was forced to stop. Teyla was jabbing at the buttons of her GDO, radioing Atlantis that they were coming in under fire. Shepherd knelt to lift one of Becket's arms over his head. "Teyla, get through the gate, Rodney with me. Ronon, you get the girl."

The bear of a man threw himself down beside the fallen stretcher, gun still blazing even as he reached his arm beneath her shoulders. Shepherd turned to spray the trees with P90 fire as he and Rodney approached with the wounded Becket. Ronon shoved his gun into its holster and quickly gathered the legs of their rescued prisoner. Shepherd sent Rodney through, releasing another spray of bullets to the trees, felling the more daring natives who were rushing closer to get a better shot at the Atlantans. Suddenly, Shepherd's eyes went wide.

"Ronon!" the urgency in Shepherd's voice caused the usually placid Satedan to whirl abruptly to scan the area behind him. That was when he heard the wail of a wraith dart coming from the tree line. Shepherd aimed his P90 skyward, trying to take out the ship before it could activate its weapons or dematerializing beam. His shots pinged off the hull, but failed to do any lasting damage. Shepherd had a moments time to watch the blasts coming towards him before he was forced back into the gate to avoid being hit. Ronon picked up speed, but the rain of fire from the dart forced him away from the gate towards the cover of the trees. His radio crackled, Elizabeth's voice coming through to ask where he was. Ronon knelt to the ground, carefully lowering his charge to the earth before reaching for his own radio.

"Atlantis, this is Ronon, the dart is holding position at the gate, I can't get through, shut down the gate. I'll lay low, try again later."

Shepherd's voice cut through then, "Ronon, you've got the natives on one side, and that dart on the other."

"Natives scattered when the dart showed up. It might stick around until the gate shuts down, then wait for it's hive ship to dial in to prevent anyone from running during the culling. As long as I stay low, I'll be fine."

"Ronon, this is Becket," came a laboured voice, "the woman is in no condition to be hauled through the forest. You need to pick a spot and stay there as long as you can. She really shouldn't be moved."

A jumble of voices broke through then, urging the doctor to go to the infirmary. Elizabeth came back on, "just, stay as low as you can, and stay safe. We'll have medical personnel on standby for when you are able to return. Atlantis out."

Ronon could just make out the sound of the gate disengaging and then the whirl of it being dialed in. It was seconds after that the whine of multiple wraith engines could be heard. He let his heels slide in the soft dirt near the tree roots, pulled his gun with one hand and ran a hand along the back of his neck with the other. He could evade the wraith easily, likely take one of the darts down while he was at it, but he couldn't do that with the woman tied to him. Even without the unspoken order to keep her safe, he felt protective of this bandaged prisoner lying without movement on the loam of the forest.

-----

He knew he was too close to the gate to consider himself safe. No matter what Becket said, the prisoner would last a lot longer if he moved her than she would if they stayed in an area he knew was going to be swarming with terrified, deadly natives and wraith in short order. Confident that she was still under the effects of the sedative Dr. Becket had provided, he knelt beside her once more to get his arms around her, then lifted his precious bundle carefully, settling her against his strong chest before he began to walk. Instinct pushed at the back of his brain, urging him to go faster, but he kept himself at a slow and careful pace. Instead of increasing distance he focused on minimizing any indication he'd ever been there.

He was crossing rough, rocky terrain when he caught the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. He turned quickly, making out the coat and hair of a higher classed wraith moving towards him without deviation. The snarl that came from behind the thin screen of leaves made Ronon sure that he had been seen. He tried to decide whether to lower his charge to the ground and fight or to run with her and try to avoid the wraith guard until he was in a more favourable position to engage him. The moment of indecision cost him a lot.

The wraith drew his stunner and fire indiscriminately towards them. Ronon spun away from the first blast, and started to run towards the more negotiable terrain farther into the trees but as he turned his back to the wraith, he took a blast to his back. His legs began to buckle, but he forced them straight, limping forward a few paces, he dropped the legs of the woman, using one arm to hold her to his body and the other to draw his gun, he was spinning to fire when the second blast caught him in the side. His back arched and his vision blurred and he slumped onto his back, his gun falling from his hand as his muscles went limp. The woman crumpled to the ground with him, although her fall had the opposite affect. The fall jarred her collar bone and woke her with a wave of pain. Her distress was acute enough to cut off her voice, and all she could do was try to relax her muscles to prevent anything from moving the snapped bone below her neck.

Ronon stirred, the right side of his body was mobile enough for him to push himself to a crouched position, although his left arm was dead to him. The wraith grinned at his defiance and holstered his stunner. The Satedan grimaced as he tried to stretch his arm far enough to reach his gun. The wraith's growl preceded his attack by bare seconds, Ronon had enough time to tense his muscles before the blow landed on his chest, but nothing more. The force of it sent him flying back into the trees, stopping with a solid thud when he back met a trunk. He groaned, trying to pull himself together enough to draw a blade to use on his attacker. The wraith's gaze flicked from Ronon to the woman, and then flicked back to Ronon, assuming that the broken creature on the ground would still be there when he was done dealing with the defiant one. He strode towards his chosen target without urgency, letting him think that he had a chance of victory, savouring the thought of draining the life from one who had fought so hard. Ronon had a hand on a long knife hidden in his vest, and had slipped that arm out of the cumbersome pack he had been forced to carry for the day. He readied himself to draw it, planning the pattern of strokes that would slice into the alien coming towards him.

The wraith raised his feeing hand, a grin on his face. Ronon rose to his heels as best his could, attempting to find enough leverage to drive his blade into the heart of the green beast. Neither of their attacks had a chance to land. The familiar report of the energy being discharged from his own gun caused Ronon's eyes to flick over the shoulder of the wraith, but he couldn't make out the girl or his weapon. The wraith, however, was doing little more than twitching, his eyes unfocused. Slowly, he pitched forward, landing with an unceremonious thump close to Ronon's feet. There was a smoldering crater where the back of his head should have been.

-----

The gun had been easy to locate on the earth of the forest, but nearly impossible to pick up. With the joints of her fingers swollen and dislocated, mobility in her hands had been incredibly limited. It had taken time for her to get to her knees, her head still swimming from the sedative, her body still aching with pain. When she finally managed to pull the gun from the ground, she had been faced with a dilemma of how to fire it with one hand without the option of maintaining a hold on the grip. She settled for resting the barrel of the gun on the wrist of her good arm and working a finger from the hand secured to her side into position to pull the trigger. Aiming like that was hard, but she was used to hard, she grew up on hard. She got a feel for the gun, steadied her breath as best she could and forced the muscles in her finger to contract, causing popped joints to rub against tendons and bones in ways they were never meant to before finally moving enough for her to pull it back enough to fire. The shot was a lucky one, as her eyes were watering too much from the pain to hold her target in focus. The recoil from the gun only added to the fire that creased her face and shook her to the bone. She was disoriented, dizzy, and terrified. Everything hurt, nothing made sense. She watched the wraith fall and reveal Ronon, someone she didn't recognize, another potential threat. She tried to talk, but her throat was raw and her voice hoarse from a lack of water and she only managed a gritty cough that shook her pained ribs and aching shoulder.

Ronon was eyeing her carefully, the shot had been incredible and he wasn't ready to dismiss it as luck just yet. The face that was staring at him showed no trust and no kindness. It held a wild fear, accentuated by the filth of capture that still covered her face and the wet streaks where tears had fallen. Ronon had never been one for words, he preferred actions to get people to see his point of view, but he doubted lunging at the wounded woman would help the situation at all. He forced his muscles to relax, and slowly lifted the hand he could move without difficulty. "Easy," he said in a voice that contained only a shred of his usual growl.

Her thoughts were firing fast, bouncing around her head. She cleared her throat as best she could, and tried talking again once she had decided that this man must have been at least partially responsible for the sling that was keeping her from further damaging her collar bone and for getting her out of the cave.. "I'm not going to shoot you," she finally managed, "but I can't make my fingers move much more than I already have..." She shifted her position slightly, but couldn't get her now-bent finger to straighten enough to free it from the trigger guard. "I can't put your gun down." She did, however, lower her good arm so that the gun resting on it was pointing at the ground. "Best I can do," she said with an apologetic glance towards the Satedan.

Ronon eyed her with barely masked suspicion, but decided that trusting her was better than getting her at all worked up, especially if that shot wasn't luck. Because, if it was skill, it wouldn't matter if he lunged at her or stood slowly, she would have no trouble blasting a hole in his chest if she wanted to. He nodded, "give me a minute and I'll help you with that." His left side was still mostly numb from the stunner blasts he had taken, although he did have some feeling returning, accompanied by ripples of sensation as feeling returned. He got his right arm back into the strap of his pack and pushed himself to his feet, limping on his left leg, the arm on that side moving slowly as he tried to work some feeling back into his muscles. The strange prisoner kept the gun lowered, only moving to readjust her position as she knelt on the ground. Ronon approached her with as much caution as he could without showing how much he wanted to rip the gun from her hands to assure he wouldn't be shot. He was soon close enough to hear her teeth grinding as she held in her pain and catch the ragged paused in breath that came from having pain in her ribs as well as her collar bone. Ronon lowered himself to the ground and relieved himself from the pack again. Then, he gently reached towards the barrel of the gun, his eyes finding her tortured finger still bent close to the trigger. Using both hands, he maneuvered the gun around it, careful not to touch it more than was absolutely required. Her breath got tighter when he did graze her skin with the cold metal of the gun, but she didn't make any other sound. "Right then," he said settling the gun back in it's place at his side, "let's see those hands."

She gave him a guarded look, but raised her good arm so he could look at her hand. His touch was gentle, and stayed at her wrist and palm. His eyes darkened. "Dislocated every joint in these," he said, "how did you manage to do that?"

"That wasn't me," she hissed, "it was done by the barbarians that captured me and my team. I proved to be a little to resourceful at undoing their knots when left alone. She moved her wrist slightly to draw emphasis back to her swollen joints, "this prevented me from messing with my bindings, or those of my comrades."

"We didn't find anyone else in there," Ronon said with an apology buried in his voice.

"No, you wouldn't have. They died days ago. They weren't soldiers, they were scientists. Weren't up to withstanding what they put us through. I knew our only chance was to escape, but I couldn't get them out. They just brought us back whenever we got away from the caves and did things that made their captivity even worse." Her voice faded towards the end, partially because she didn't want to share anymore of the story, but mostly due to the dryness that was creeping back into her voice.

Ronon pulled his eyes from her face and dropped them to his pack. His hands left hers to dig about in the sturdy canvas. "We came looking for survivors, brought some supplies along just in case they turned out to be in bad shape." He pulled a canister from the depths of his pack.

A small smile found its way to her lips, "I suppose I qualify for your charity?"

"I would say so, yes," he said, offering her the bottle, then drawing it back slightly when he looked at her hand again.

She shook her head, "I won't be able to grip that unless you pop these back where they belong. I would do it myself, but my other hand is in the same shape."

"I can do it for you now..." Ronon said a little hesitantly, "but it will hurt like hell. The doctor's waiting for you on the other side of the gate, we should be back there in a few hours. He can give you something for the pain and do it before you're back to thinking straight."

"And be helpless until then?"

Ronon raised his eyebrows and looked towards the fallen wraith, "you call that helpless?"

"I call that luck," she said with a slight cough. "Look, I'm not asking you to dislocate your own fingers, just to slide my back where they belong. I've dislocated joints before, and gotten them back in place and I trust you've taken care of yourself long enough to know how to do it without causing crippling damage."

"I've done it before without messing myself up..."

"Good, it's settled then," she said, moving her hand towards him again. Her eyes found his, green meeting brown. "Do me a favor and don't try to be gentle. Just shove them back as quickly as you can, you'll be sparing me more pain that way."

"Even if I do this, you shouldn't bend them for several weeks. The doctor will likely have you splinted half to hell when we get back."

"Emergency use only, I promise."

Ronon's eyebrows lowered, but he nodded silently and took her hand again. "Right."

"Right," she nodded, the crease on her forehead the only outward sing of apprehension she was giving off. Inside her mind was racing with the memories of how she had retched the last time she had to relocate her shoulder. She tried to banish the image from her mind by flooding it instead with a repeated loop of the red blast burrowing into the back of the wraith's skull. That was a good image to savour, to cling to through the pain. The first series of pops actually surprised her before the horrid explosion of pain hit as swollen tendons were moved quickly to form around bone and nerves were pushed inside her skin. She added a cut to her lip, tasting the salt in her blood and sucking a breath in through tight teeth.

Ronon's normally impassive face actually looked apologetic, but the former captive refused to let him get away with just realigning her pinky. "There, see," she said in a strained voice, "no issue at all. And, I'm pretty sure you got everything back in without mucking up my joints permanently. Should have been a doctor."

"I'm much better at... "mucking" people up than putting them back together," Ronon said with a grimace as he slid the joints of her next finger back into place.

Her sucked in breath became a half chuckle. "Military man then? Should have assumed that from your--" she cut off to clench her teeth when her middle finger was put back together, "from that marvelous gun of yours. Wouldn't mind finding one of those for myself."

"You'd have to get in line," Ronon said, quickly moving to her pointer finger, and earning another hissed breath and a barely contained groan.

"MmhI'd imagine so."

Her short sentence caused Ronon to quickly look to her face, it was pale and strained, and a smear of copper about her lips near a bleeding nip in the skin. "Just your thumb left. You sure you need that?"

"Made it a habit to avoid quitting before the job was done," she said in a much quieter voice.

Ronon kept his eyes on her face when he gave the quick twist that nudged the knuckle back where it belonged. He watched the pain cause her eyes to roll back, then crease shut. Her pale skin went whiter than it had, but she still refused to make a sound. "Are you still doing alright?"

She was careful to keep her hand as it was, terrified that bending her joints would cause the pain to reappear full force. "Better now that it's over."

Ronon's hand went back to his pack and soon emerged again with a medium-sized red kit, nowhere near the size of Dr. Beckets, but large enough to contain the more than the basics he needed. After digging through rolls of gauze and bottles of pills, he found a set of soft braces, not as sturdy as the stiff ones Becket would likely insist on when they managed to get back through the gate, but small and thin enough to pack into a small med-kit without taking up too much valuable space. "Just going to slip these on then, shouldn't be too bad and you won't have to worry about jarring them unduly."

She just nodded, accepting his treatment without further conversation or complaint. When he finished, he looked back towards her face. Her eyes were closed and her breath was coming quickly. "Hey," he said, lightly touching her shoulder. Her eyes flicked back open and she forced a smile to her lips.

"Wasn't going anywhere," she said dryly, then gave a strained laugh. "I just realized I still won't be able to hold that damn canteen."

Remembering that she still hadn't had a chance to drink and that she was probably extremely dehydrated made Ronon feel as if he was neglecting to care for his charge at all. She must have read the look on her face because she shook her head with a trace of a smile, "don't worry about it, mate."

He quickly found the canteen leaning against the pack and unscrewed the top, her eyes had closed again by the time he started to raise it to her lips. His eyes found the sun in the sky estimating the wraith had been present on the planet for about an hour. She had been out when they had found her, and she was already starting to drift back to the edge of unconsciousness again. He touched her shoulder again, earning a slitted pair of eyes. "I know you're feeling like sleeping is all you want to do, but we need to get some food and water into you before you pass out on me, alright?"

Her head moved, a barely perceptible movement, which Ronon decided was a nod of agreement. He guided the canteen to her lips, relieved when she responded by tipping her head back and swallowing quickly. He ensured she wouldn't choke by keeping the flow of water slow. He pulled the canteen away for a moment and her eyes fluttered open to watch him pull out a power bar. Breaking it into manageable pieces, he fed her that before allowing her to have more to drink. "You're still hungry, I know, but the last thing you want to do is make yourself sick. You can have a little more water, if you like."

"Please," she said, keeping her eyes open this time.

He let her finish off the canteen, then had to reach out to steady her as her eyes started slipping closed again. "Let's find you somewhere to lie down, alright? You can rest until the wraith finish cleaning up the villagers."

He slipped his arm around her back, meaning to lift her using that arm with his other supporting her good arm's elbow. Her whole body flinched away from his touch and her moveable arm jerked backwards to push his arm from her back. Her eyes were wide open now, although her face was creased with pain once more. Ronon started to apologize, but she cut him off, "that was my fault. Forgot to mention that spot."

"You got a cut back there? 'Cause I think these kits have some nice bandages and I know they have a sterilizing ointment that stings like hell but keeps things clean."

"I wish," she said, resting her elbow on a knee and straining to keep her breathing even. Her eyes closed, but not in exhaustion this time. "I don't know what it is. Something slammed into my back last time I got us out of the caves. Sling stone, arrowhead, maybe one of their damn 'deathbuds', I haven't a clue, but whatever it is, they didn't bother to get it out, it's under the skin, deep enough to be a real bitch."

"Mind if I look?" Ronon asked, concern once again present on his face.

"It's something I think that doctor of yours should deal with, but feel free to stare at it. Just above my hip on the right side of my back."

She didn't move, keeping her body as still as she could while the pain died. Ronon pulled the hem of her frayed shirt away from her skin, noting the dark blood that had caked in it's material. He swore under his breath when he saw what he had unwittingly put pressure on earlier. "Does it look as bad as it feels?" she asked, twisting her head slightly, unable to see the expression on his face.

"Becket will be able to fix it, don't worry," Ronon said in a typical voice for him, but worry for his charge was starting to make him uneasy. Her back was a mess of bruises, the darkest of which was around the area that was bothering him. It was dark purple, nearly black, and covered her side and disappeared under her shirt, though Ronon guessed it would likely cover her ribs as well. In the center of the patch of pooled blood was a deep slit in the skin, crusted over with a thick scab, it was still oozing a small amount of blood and it was definitely infected. The edges were an angry red and he could see just a hint of metal that protruded beneath the skin. "That doesn't look like an arrowhead to me, though."

She hissed, and rubbed her forehead against the sleeve of her shirt. 'Then it _is_ one of what they call 'deathbuds', the villagers first advance in weaponry." She anticipated Ronon's confusion, because she continued before he had to ask. "It's their first use of molten metal, blacksmithing, whatever you call it on your world. They've been able to forge nails, or things close enough to be called nails. They heat those up and bend them together to form these balls of spikes. To make sure they don't fall apart, those are dipped in liquid metal and left to harden. They fire them from their slings, the damned little beasts. You should let your doctor know it's likely got it's points, dug int deep. That, I'll let him put me out for."

Ronon let her shirt fall back, and stood angrily, though unsure of what he was going to do with that rage. She watched him from her spot on the ground, but shook her head when his hand went to his gun. "Don't think about that, whatever vengeance I may have wished on them will be carried out by the wraith. If you leave to hunt them yourself, I'll be helpless if someone finds me."

"Thought we agreed you were far from helpless."

"No, we agreed I was lucky," she said with a hint of a smile, leaning forward a touch more to rest her head on her knee. Her arm wrapping around her leg to keep it from sliding on the earth. "They're savages, both vicious and cruel, but they're not worth getting killed over."

He pulled his hand from his side with more force than was required, turning on his heel to stalk back and forth. He hated doing nothing. He was considering making his way back anyways, no one else would come out this far... His dangerous train of thought grounded to a halt when the woman slipped into sleep, her leg slipping on the ground and her body following. Her slide to his knees and caught her gently by her good shoulder, his other hand moving to cradle her head. This time, she didn't stir at his touch. His radio crackled, and he moved her head to his chest so he could activate it when a quick touch. "Ronon here."

"Ronon, it's Weir. We've been trying to dial in since we lost contact, looks like the gate is finally free. You still alright?"

"Yeah, had to move farther from the gate than I would've liked, but we're fine."

"How about our rescued prisoner?"

Ronon's hand found the back of her head, and her gently pushed her matted hair from her face as he spoke, "she's out again, but she had something to drink and came around long enough to talk. She's got something buried in her back though, some kind of barbed mess the villagers thought to load into their slings. It's going to need to be cut out."

"I'll prep for some surgery then," came Becket's voice, "just get her here as soon as you can."

"I'm on my way back. Should be near the gate in fifteen minutes. Keep it open until then, I'll dial in the moment you disconnect from that end."

"Understood, we'll keep a radio link established, let us know when you're close," Weir's voice faded, and Ronon was confronted with the task of finding the best way to carry the woman in his arms. Carrying her as he had before had worked, but possibly only because she had been sedated, and it would be hard for him to ensure that he didn't aggravate the wound on her back or anything else that could possibly be wrong with her. He wished she was alert enough that he could ask her, but she was gone to the world. In the end, he decided to alter the way he had held her only slightly. Instead of cradling her in her arms, he held her as though she was awake, as though she could hold onto his neck. Her body was mostly upright, her head resting against the side of his neck. He held most of her weight with one arm, under her legs. His other arm kept her upper body from slumping backwards. When he had her settled, he started back to the gate at a brisk pace, knowing that the woman was far enough gone that a quicker pace wouldn't bother her enough to warrant slowing down.

He made it to the gate in ten. Dialing was difficult while balancing the woman in his arms, but entering his IDC was worse. He had hardly expected Weir to make an exception for him, but she could have made it seemed as though she cared he was balancing a rescued but wounded prisoner in one arm and trying to punch numbers on a ridiculously small device with the other. No villagers showed up to harass them and it appeared that the wraith had left or were otherwise occupied. Without a backwards glance, Ronon stepped off the miserable planet and back to the safety and familiarity of Atlantis..

-----

Becket was waiting with a medical team and a gurney on the other side of the gate. Ronon moved quickly to the wheeled stretcher and lowered the woman onto it. It was in a reclining position, with pillows placed so that the lower part of her back wouldn't be pressed into the bed. Ronon was forced to back up as the medical team got to work checking blood pressure and readying IV drips. Something caused her to open her eyes again. Becket was leaning over the bed to flash lights in her eyes, which squinted in response. "She's conscious again," he said to his team, but he directed the second part of his sentence to his patient. "How are you feeling, love?"

Ronon could see her lips moving, but she was speaking too quietly for him to hear. Even Becket, the closet to her mouth, had to lean in close and he was still frowning in concentration. One of the medical team close to her head was staring at her with disbelief, evidently able to make out enough of what she was saying to be surprised by its content. Becket, was nodding, speaking softly, and resting a hand on the undamaged shoulder of his patient. "Alright, you'll be fine, I promise. First up, we'll get you into surgery and remove whatever you have in your back, everything else will be dealt with as we go."

A barely perceptible nod followed, and Becket nodded towards the IV, one of his team quickly slid it into the back of her hand. Ronon watched her face from a distance, although her eyes were closing for longer and longer periods of time between blinks, she managed to find him before the drugs stole her from the present. A hint of a smile played at her lips, and she attempted a wink, although her other eye closed soon after the first and remained shut. "Right, off we go then," Becket said, "we've got several things to cover and the sooner we get started the better." The gurney was wheeled off, Ronon thought about following it, but forced his feet to remain planted on the floor of the gate room.

"She looked pretty hurt," Weir said, coming to stand behind him, "but you know Becket will fix her right up."

Ronon just grunted, he wasn't in the mood to talk. Shepherd was next to approach him when Weir left. "We were getting worried about you buddy, but you seemed to have managed fine."

"She's in rough shape Shepherd, worse that Becket thought when he got there. I just hope he can keep her alive, she deserves that much after what she's been through." He turned and walked to his quarters, not looking back.

-----

Elizabeth remained close to the room designated as the OR, she watched through the glass as Carson worked to get to spiked barb out of the muscle tissue in the woman's back. It took longer than she would have thought, mostly because Carson was trying not to further tear her muscles in pulling the projectile free. There was also the infection to deal with. He cleaned the wound thoroughly before he stitched it close, and applied strong sterilizing cream to the sealed wound. Gauze was placed on top after a local anesthetic was administered to stop any sharp pain from disturbing her. Carson left the room for a brief moment while his team cleaned up their instruments and applied bandages. Elizabeth met him at the door.

"How is she?"

"Well, that wound was infected and had been there for days, I got the infection that was still on the surface cleaned up and I've got her on some strong antibiotics to prevent any internal infection from spreading, but that hole in her back isn't the worst of her problems."

"What do you mean?"

"I actually received a rather accurate diagnosis from our patient herself. Seems she's a doctor herself. To list everything that's going to need attention... She's pretty sure she has either a sprained or broken ankle, her 7th and 10th ribs are broken, her right collar bone has been snapped. Every joint in all ten fingers has been dislocated, she got a hard knock on the head and described all the symptoms of a minor concussion before diagnosing herself with that as well. She has a mass of contusions, abrasions, and lacerations along with the possibility of an internal hemorrhage, although she -and I- don't believe it to be life-threatening. Also, she's malnourished and suffering from dehydration."

Weir's eyebrows were raised, and she looked into the room to watch the pale figure in the bed as medical attendants buzzed around her busy with different tasks, "is that all?"

"That's all that she thought was wrong with her, although I would like to get her under a scanner as soon as I'm able to make sure that any internal bleeding isn't going to surprise us later and check the severity of the break or sprain in her ankle as well as the damage to her rib cage. She's going to have to be on bed rest for a long while, Elizabeth. I've already got an IV feeding her with electrolytes and fluids, but she should be fine to eat when she comes to. I'm going to go back in there and relocate and brace her fingers, as well run her through the scanner and set her arm properly."

"Right, don't let me keep you," Weir said with a nod.

"Thank you," said Becket and he walked back into the OR to continue to heal his charge.

-----

It was late at night when Carson moved the rescued captive to recovery. She was cleaned up, changed into a clean set of white "infirmary-wear" and one of the female nurses had washed, detangled and braided her copper hair away from her face. Becket had eased her off the sedative, although she was still being given a small dose of morphine to keep the pain in her whole body from overwhelming her. She had yet to wake up, but Becket said that was normal. She was exhausted, wounded, and undernourished. Her body was healing and she would open her eyes when it was ready. Much to everyone's surprise, Ronon insisted on remaining close by when she was moved.

She woke to Becket changing the bag of liquids attached to her IV. He gave her a smile, then nodded silently to the other side of her bed. Ronon had spread himself over a collection of chairs and was sleeping with his chin against his chest. "Didn't consider him the type to stick around," she said softly.

"He's not as tough as he looks," Becket said with a shrug, then he looked back to her, "although I'm fairly convinced you're a lot tougher than you appear. How are you feeling?"

"A lot better, headache's mostly cleared up, I'm not feeling dizzy or disoriented..." she looked down at herself, noting the new sling holding her arm to her side and the hard splints on her fingers, "and looks like I'm all bound up." She smiled at him, "well done Doctor...."

"Becket. But you can call me Carson."

"Field Medic Caelin DeVries," she said with a solemn nod, "though Cael is more than fine."

"Ah, so you are in the field of medicine, I have to say your diagnosis was spot on. We scanned you while you were out to check for internal damage and only found an isolated pocket of blood already breaking up."

She smiled, only because a self-deprecating laugh would have hurt her ribs. "I was always good at diagnosis, it was the treatment that got me chased out of the operating room and onto other planets."

"Ronon said that you--"

At the mention of his name, Ronon's eyes opened with a snap, his body tightening as though readying to be attacked. Caelin smiled his him from her bed, and he settled quickly, lounging back against the chair. Becket took a breath. "Right then," he said, "I have some other patients to tend to, but feel free to call if you start to feel any pain."

"Thank you, Carson," she said.

"You're welcome, my dear, I'm sure you'll be up and about in no time."

Her green eyes drifted back to her rescuer. "Ronon, was it?" she asked, moving slightly against the bed so she could watch him without craning her neck.

"Yeah, that's me," he had leaned forward enough to rest his forearms on the edge of the bed, his hand hovering just above the shape of her legs beneath the woven blankets.

His gaze was intense, but she didn't look away. "Right, then you can call me Cael."

"Becket said you were a doctor, but I've never seen someone in the field of medicine shoot like you did, or manage so well under such obvious pain..."

"Suspecting me already?" she asked teasingly, "I thought we were getting along so well earlier."

"It just doesn't line up, are you military? Doctor turned weapon? Or maybe the other way around?"

She sighed and let her head fall back against the pillow, finally breaking from his gaze. "More like... failed doctor demoted to field medic, promoted to Enseigne after one mission in which all the military personnel were killed and I was left to defend a group of scientists. Funny, that time it managed to work out fine. But, on that last planet... well, neither my medical background or my new application of hunting skills taught by my father could save my people."

"Sounds complicated," Ronon said, standing enough to lean over her completely, finding a way to make their eyes meet again, "but what happened, that wasn't your fault."

"Fault, no. Responsibility, yes. I appreciate your sentiment, but I've seen enough comrades fall to stop feeling as though I should have fallen in their place. But, I was charged with keeping those scientists safe, and I failed my duty."

Ronon pushed himself from her bed, brushing loose dreads behind his shoulders as he did so. He didn't know what to say to something like that.

"Don't worry about it, Ronon," she said, finding a smile to share, "we don't have to talk about that. What about you? I'm going to assume you're not cut from the same cloth as most of the others here, such as the guards standing just around the corner." She gave a larger smile at Ronon's surprise that she had noticed, "I'm not that drugged. You can hear them checking their guns every ten minutes or so if you listen hard enough."

Ronon gave a soft breath of amusement and settled himself back in one of the chairs by her bed. "Well, if you don't want to talk about death and responsibility, I would advise against asking my past."

She winced, though not in pain. "Looks like we're both sob-stories then." She started to chuckle,planning to add a comment to lighten the mood again, but had to stop, re-tearing the skin that had healed on her lip as a dark scab as she bit down on it again. She let out her breath slowly after that, touching her tongue to her lip and tasting blood again.

The happiness faded from Ronon's face. "Should I get Becket?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

"It's nothing," she insisted, trying to smile again.

"Look at yourself, this isn't nothing. This is far from nothing," Ronon's anger was beginning to rise again, he almost started to pace when he felt a light touch on his arm.

Caelin had the back of her hand against his skin and her face was tipped towards him, earnest care eyes. "Hey," she said, brining his eyes from her hand to her face, "it _was_ something. It _was _hell. This, right now, isn't. This is everything but that. A little pain isn't going to keep me from being... ecstatic that I'm here, that I'm alive. And, you're the reason for that."

Ronon started to try to find something to say, but Cael shook her head, settling her head back against the pillow and letting her eyes remain closed longer and longer. "You don't have to say anything, just know that... Just, thank you. From the bottom of my heart." She slitted her eyes open to meet his again, "thank you for saving me."

Her breath slowed and the hand resting on his arm slipped back to the covers of the bed. Ronon stood for a long time looking at her before he let himself sink back to the chair, he kept his hands were they were though, on the edge of her bed, just touching hers. For whatever reason, he didn't want to leave her alone.

"She's right, son," came Becket's voice from the arch leading to the rest of the infirmary. Ronon almost pulled his hands back and stood, thinking of excuses or other things he could be doing. But, that now familiar sentiment stopped him, and he just dropped his eyes back to the figure that was more bandages than skin. "You're the reason she's alive, and she's grateful for that."

"I just wish I could have been there sooner, that the wraith hadn't shown up..."

"I don't think she wants you to avenge her, son, I think she just wants you to... be there for her when she wakes up. Although, you need some rest too by the looks of things."

"I'm fine," Ronon said quickly.

Becket sighed but nodded his acceptance, "Of course you are. Right then, do me a favour, next time she opens her eyes come find me, I need to change a few of her bandages and I'd prefer not to wake her. She needs sleep."

"You got it," Ronon said, watching the Doctor check the heart rate monitor before nodding to himself and leaving once again. When he was clear, Ronon shifted one of his hands ever so slightly. Cael didn't move, but he liked the idea that she could feel his hand now resting on her forearm. His other hand moved to support his head as his eyes began to close again,

-----

It was Cael that woke him late in the night. "Ronon," she said, jostling him with her forearm.

His head slipped from his supporting arm, but he caught himself before he had moved more than a centimeter or two. Hie looked dazed and a bit disoriented, but that cleared as he straightened, rubbing a hand across his bleary eyes. "Good morning," he said in a thick voice.

"I'm pretty sure it's the dead of the night," she replied, a hint of a smile on her face. Ronon watched her carefully, noting the exhaustion behind her eyes and the tight draw to her face.

"You alright?" he asked, leaning forward again.

"Just a bit cold," she confessed, "I was going to ask if you could find some extra blankets when you woke, but you were out good... Sorry for waking you."

Ronon frowned, then nodded to accept her apology. "Maybe I should go get Becket," he said, "you sure you don't have a fever, something caused from an infection the meds haven't cleared up?"

"That's unlikely," Caelin replied.

Ronon leaned a forward a touch more and raised a hand to her forehead, her skin was hot to the touch. "I'm getting the Doc," he said, pulling back and rising quickly.

Cael's protests died behind him. She scowled in her bed, staring at the arch where Ronon had just vanished from sight. She was fine... wasn't she? Just a touch cold. This city was damnably cold. She had thought that when she woke the first time. Her frown deepened. No, she hadn't. It had been warm and pleasant. She touched her forehead again, disbelief on her face now. She should have been able to reason out that she had a fever...

Suddenly Becket was at her side. Had she not noticed him come in? She was trying to remember if she had been watching the archway the whole time Ronon had been gone when she noticed she was shivering, Becket was talking, but she couldn't make herself comprehend or respond. Her breath was coming quickly and she couldn't control it. Ronon was suddenly at her side, slipping something cold behind her neck. She tried to thank him, but lacked the words.

"She wasn't this bad when I left," Ronon said as he slid icepacks into positions dictated by Carson as he held a thermometer between Cael's lips.

"She's this bad now, though I don't understand how... Unless her back is a lot worse off that we thought." He paused, the ordered Ronon to help him get Caelin on her side. When she was turned over on her good shoulder, Becket ordered him to page several of his staff. As the giant Satedan moved to obey, Becket pulled the bandages from Cael's back. The severe inflammation was the first thing he noticed. "Damn it," he breathed.

As the first of his medical staff began to arrive, he started giving orders. When a bag of cooled IV fluids was set up to replace her fluid drip -- she would be able to drink normally when the fever broke as she was barely dehydrated -- Carson removed the icepacks, which weren't a desirable method of cooling patients anyways. He hated fevers, they were hard to deal with and relied heavily upon the patient with little he could do to help.

Becket soon dismissed most of the staff, there was little they could do to help now. He watched the monitors hooked up to Cael closely, cleaned and redressed the wound on her back and several of the bandages covering more severe lacerations and gently repositioned her on her back. Ronon, for all his good intentions, had fallen asleep once again, lounging in a chair at the side of the room where he had been out of the way of the medical ream. Carson sat at the head of the bed with a cool cloth, pressing it to his patient's forehead into the early hours of morning.

-----

When she opened her eyes, Carson was still there, his hand holding the cool cloth to her face. He looked tired, and she instantly felt sorry for being an even bigger inconvenience. Becket, noticing she was awake again, gave her his best smile. "That's more like it," he said, "good Lord, love, you're going to run us through every medical problem known to man before I get you cleared from here."

"I didn't think to consider a fever... not with an IV of antibiotics already running, I'm sorry, I should have woken Ronon sooner. I just wasn't thinking."

"Ah, pay it no mind. You're fine now. Although I would bet..." he stood and poured a glass of water from the side table, "...that you're more than a bit parched."

She smiled at him and nodded, "yes, I most definitely am."

"Well, since I've still got you bound up in splints, allow me to get this into you," he said, bending down to hold the cup to her lips. She drank quickly, though managed not to choke on it. "Can I get you some more?" he asked, when she had finished the glass.

"No, thank you, maybe in a little while." Her eyes found Ronon across the room, and she shook her head. "He needs a real night's sleep, or he'll end up in here for reasons other than being a concerned about me."

"Aye... that he does, but it's rather difficult to get Ronon to do things he isn't keen on doing. Especially when he's doing something for someone else."

Carson sat back down on the chair by her bedside and the two passed a long moment in companionable silence before Caelin spoke again, "do you think you could do me a favor, Doctor?"

"Oh, aye," he said, then had to clarify, "well, within reason, sure."

Cael smiled warmly at him, "I just wanted to ask if you would be able to send a scout of some kind to my home world. The story as I left it has left me with little hope that much remains, but I would like to know."

"I can speak to Elizabeth, I'm sure she'd be happy to look into the matter for you."

"There isn't any hurry," Cael put in quickly, "I won't be able to return if it's still standing for a few days at least, and if it isn't... well, a those few days in ignorant hope won't do me any harm."

Carson reached over to lay a hand on her shoulder, "let's hope for the best, then."

"Thank you," she said softly, blinking quickly to dispel the moisture creeping into her eyes both from the thought of her planet's death and the kindness of the doctor she had already come to respect.

"You're most welcome," he said sincerely, and stood. "I'll go chat to Elizabeth, then I need to see to my other current patients. When the giant wakes, order him to bed on my authority, or your own, Field Medic DeVries."

She beamed at him from the bed, tipping her head after raising her splinted hand in a mock salute, "Understood, Doctor."

"Good, I'll leave you be then. Try to get some more rest, and don't be shy to call anyone in if anything else starts bothering you."

The Scottish doctor vanished around a corner, and Cael was left in the quiet room, with the steady beep of the heart rate monitor and Ronon's breathing the only sounds. She knew the fever had broken at that she would be fine, but she still felt as though she had been drawn through a wringer. She was tired, hungry, achey, and ready to snap bitterly at someone. And, if there had been someone around who had been anything but kind to her, she might have done just that. But, these people deserved her gratitude, and she knew that it was just her weakened condition that was making her testy. Surely she could reign in her temper with her circumstances and treat her saviors with the kindness and respect they deserved. She took as deep a breath as she could manage without causing herself pain and released it slowly. There were only a few things she wanted more than a hot bath and a platter of steaming... somethings, anything really. She was just so tired of sitting in bed waiting to get better. She scolded herself, it had barely been two days since she arrived in the city. She had ordered patients to bed rest for long weeks herself and knew how frustrating it was when they insisted on wandering about, mucking up their stitches or shifting their set limbs. She would not be a bad patient. It would be embarrassing . No, she would remain in the infirmary until she had the blessing of Carson to do otherwise. She nodded resolutely and settled back against the pillows in her narrow bed. She didn't think she was tired, but when she let her eyes close, she drifted off into sleep once again.

-----

She woke to the presence of someone else in the room. A short woman with dark skin and kind eyes was sitting beside her, her eyes were down, reading something intently. Caelin scanned the room, Ronon was nowhere to be seen.

"John ordered Ronon to bed around midday," came the voice of the woman, who was setting aside the tablet she had been reading from to give Caelin her full attention. "He didn't want to leave, but he was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. It only took three to carry him to his quarters."

Cael smiled. "Good," she said, "he needed a real sleep, I can't imagine those chairs are very comfortable."

The woman shifted and smiled back. "That they are not. I am Teyla Ammagen," she said warmly, bowing her head slightly, "I go off-world with Ronon and the other members of our team."

"So you were there when they found me?"

"Yes, I was." She stood. "Dr. Becket told me I was to inquire how you were feeling when you woke."

"Oh, I'm fine," Cael said without hesitation. "Not even a hint of anything being wrong. I'm just a little sore and a bit hungry."

"I can go find you something to eat," Teyla said with a smile.

"That would be wonderful," Cael replied, the thought of eating again causing her mouth to water.

"I will be back in a moment," her new guardian said, still smiling, and moved off quickly.

When she was gone, Cael took a more thorough stock of how she was feeling. She felt no disorientation or dizziness, the bright lights in the infirmary were no longer troubling to look at. It seemed her concussion was fading fast, along with any lingering affects of her dehydration. Any trace of uncomfortable heat or coldness had also vanished, meaning her fever was indeed gone. There was still pain when she took too deep a breath and moving the arm with the broken collar bone caused shards of pain to stab into her from hip to neck. That was to be expected for at least a few weeks. She couldn't test the mobility in her fingers, or her ankle, which had been fitted out in some kind of shoe that immobilized the joint. Her back was a dull ache, but it wasn't hot or too painful to bear. The many cuts and bruises were fading as well, barely registering as discomfort. With time, she would be fine. No additional complications should spring up. As long as her tendons were in decent shape after the relocation, she figured that she would be able to obtain full movability of her joints with proper physiotherapy. Yes, she thought to herself, I'll be just fine.

Teyla was back quickly, carrying a tray loaded with several dishes and a glass of what looked like milk. She set it down on the table beside the bed and stood over it, waving her hand at the various types of food. "They were preparing dinner so there were many options. There's a thick soup, some warm bread with butter, a platter of rice with various vegetables, some roasted meat and, Doctor McKay's favorite, blue jello."

Cael grinned, "well, it all looks delicious, although, I am tempted to start with the soup."

"Soup it will be then," Teyla said, sitting down and lifting the bowl and spoon. Caelin had just swallowed her first mouthful when Ronon appeared again. Teyla set the bowl to the side and rose quickly.

"I asked you to get me when she was awake," he said, leaning on the archway.

"She was hungry, Ronon, and you needed sleep. Still need it, by the looks of you. Why don't you go rest for a few hours more? I can care for her in that time."

"I'm fine."

Teyla took a breath, but released it without uttering any of the protests she was thinking. "As you wish," she said, "but you are not staying up all night again."

Ronon just grunted. Teyla sighed and turned to Cael. "It was nice to meet you, Caelin DeVries," she said, bowing her head again before turning to leave. Ronon didn't move until she was past him. Then he walked casually to the side of the bed and sat down.

Cael, who hadn't said a word during the exchange of the close friends, looked at him carefully. He didn't look as tired as he had earlier, but she could tell that he could have used a longer rest than he had received. Ronon wasn't looking at her, he was eyeing the tray of food sitting by her bedside. "Teyla found you some of the good stuff," he finally said.

"The soup did seem delicious, from the one bite I had," she said with a smile.

To her surprise, Ronon lifted the bowl and settled himself close to her without even being prodded to do so. He drew the spoon through the thick dish and lifted it, waiting for the excess to drip off before moving it to Caelin's mouth. "Becket says you'll be fine to walk around in about a week, as long as you don't do anything that would make you breathe too heavily."

Caelin swallowed the food in her mouth and nodded before speaking. "So I hear."

She ate most of the food Teyla had found in the mess hall, and was finishing off the tall bottle of water when Ronon finally spoke again. "I haven't asked you how you were feeling today, have I?"

"No..." Caelin said, settling herself more comfortably against the reclining bed, "but, I am fine. Really," she added when Ronon started to protest, "I need time to rest and time to heal, but I'm fine. I'm not in any real pain and nothing serious is left to worry about."

"Good, I noticed you weren't hooked up to anything anymore," Ronon said, nodding to her left where the tall IV pole had been during his earlier visits.

Cael grinned and looked down to the small, round 'bandaid' that now adorned the inside of her elbow. "Yeah, I'm free. Well... almost."

"Ah, you'll be free to move about in no time. Ribs and sprains can't keep you down for too long."

"I beg to differ, son," came Becket's warm voice from the archway.

Caelin smiled at him but Ronon sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "Come on, Doc, you know that she'd be fine to wander around. Even being wheeled about would be better than being stuck in her for another whole week."

Carson sighed in a very dramatic manner before nodding reluctantly. "Alright, I suppose you can take her about the city. Just, go easy." At Ronon's rolled eyes he raised a finger at the Satedan and added a sentence more. "I mean it, big man, when I say she can go out I do not mean to the gym. She's to sit and look and talk. You push her, she's to do nothing to propel that chair... and you bloody well better have her back here within a handful of hours."

Caelin was smiling too broadly to think of anything to say, so Ronon nodded and promised to obey in his most sincere voice.

Carson nodded again, and waved Ronon away, "go fetch a wheelchair then."

Ronon bounded past him with a great deal of energy and Becket sighed once more. "Good Lord," he muttered to himself, before moving to the bedside. "Now, Miss Caelin, I know you're bored sick of this place, but I don't want you going out if you're too much pain."

Cael shook her head, "I'm fine, really. A bit achey and sore, but nothing sharp or extreme."

"Alright, I'll let you go then. But, before I do, I came down here to let you know that Elizabeth approved a mission to check out your home world. There's a lot of teams coming and going right now, so it's not going to happen until a bit later tonight. I'll make sure Ronon gets you to the control room so you can see for yourself."

"Thank you, Doctor," Caelin said.

"Think nothing of it, love," Carson replied. He slid his tablet onto a table uncluttered by Caelin's lunch tray and placed a gentle hand on her good shoulder as Ronon came back into the room with a chair, complete with a soft woven blanket for her lap. "Let's get you ready to go then."


End file.
